


To Steal a Prince

by SonoftheSun



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Overwatch, Alternate Universe - Space, Bars, Bars and Pubs, Casinos, Crimes & Criminals, Curious Hanzo, Different Planets, Drug Dealing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Galaxies, Gambling, Hanamura (Overwatch), Hanamura is Actually a Planet, Hanzo is from another planet, Hanzo is royalty, IN SPACE!, Interplanetary Law Enforcement, Interplanetary Travel, Jesse McCree is a Little Shit, Kidnapped Hanzo, Kidnapping, Knockoff Han Solo, Lasers, Law Enforcement, M/M, McCree's A+ Piloting, McHanzo - Freeform, Monarchy, Moonlight, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, One Night Stands, Outer Space, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Planets, Prison, Prissy Hanzo, Relationship(s), Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Shootouts, Smuggling, Space Battles, Space Flight, Space Husbands, Space Pirates, Space Police, Space Rig, Space Stations, Stars, Teen Genji, Traditions, Visiting Other Planets, space chases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonoftheSun/pseuds/SonoftheSun
Summary: Hanzo Shimada, the pent up prince of the Monarchial planet Hanamura, is flustered with the state of his homeworld and escapes to prove a point to his father.When things go a little awry and Hanzo ends up kidnapped, he finds himself in the clutches of the dastardly, but the undeniably charming smuggler Jesse McCree.Now he's their prisoner, and until he's either rescued or ransomed, Hanzo is trapped with McCree and his unruly band of criminals.





	1. Heated Words

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for some time now, but really only just now writing it! I've got a lot of ideas for this one and I'll try to upload regularly, hope you guys enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hateful exchanges and unbridled anger are let loose in a quarrel between father and son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first couple chapters, maybe until 3 or 4 are going to be pretty angsty, bear with me! I promise it won't be like this for the whole work!

He sat on the stone bench beneath the unfurling tree, its wooden branches twisting into the vibrant blue sky and erupting with soft pink foliage at the ends. The Prince was a fair looking man, his body radiating a pale glow; the aura would lead one to believe to have an icy touch lingering in the midst, though you would not find it. Despite the man’s cold stare, the pearly glimmer was warm and inviting.

Strikingly handsome, the Prince had smooth, ivory skin, slick as glass. No blemishes housed upon his skin, the Prince's arms muscular and toned after years of vigorous training. The top half of the man's body went relatively uncovered, save for a simple black garment which draped over his right shoulder. The weather permitted a lack of a shirt and the balmy spring breezes swayed through the trees and carried with it the tingles of summer. The man slightly stroked the petals of the pink flower, showing no discomfort at the weather, his strong fingers examining the blossom with the tenderest touch.

Embellishing the man's left arm and shoulder is a sprawling tattoo of twisting azure dragons, coiled around the Prince's arms as if they were its prey. The fierceness in the markings on his body matched the Prince's demeanor. No smile would seem to creep upon the man's face; some would say there was one underlying, like an old friend seeking reconciliation but Hanzo desired none. His lip curled into an emotionless, blank expression. The Prince's face was sharp and almost pointed, a thin, salt and pepper beard traced his upper lip up to his jawline, his hair the same color. The Prince had long hair, but it's tidily bundled in a ponytail, save for strands of hair which dangled over the right side of his face.

The prince sighed, mindlessly cradling the pink flower in his hands, careful not to crush it as he toyed with its delicate petals. His legs swayed back and forth despite his metal boots scraping the dirt and scuffing the landscaping of the garden where he sat. Out of the corner of his eye, a slight shadow emerged as from the sliding paper door to his right. Reluctant to look over at his company, Hanzo let out a hushed grunt and refocused himself on the flower.

"Hanzo," the voice said. It was a soft-spoken voice, quiet and unprovocative, like the coo of a dove. "I wish that you would speak to your mother and me. Please, explain yourself and why you choose to directly oppose our views that we have held for hundreds of years."

Hanzo snorted and crushed the flower in his palm. "Hundreds of years? Hundreds of years?! You are the first emperor to close off all foreign influence in three centuries! Why do you care if I speak or not? Or that I speak my mind. You and mother will not budge, you cling a terrified child to your traditionalist philosophies like a terrified child; STILL, you hold fast to the archaic ideas of our ancestors? After a lineage of successful rulers for three hundred years, you are first to revert into lunacy!"

His father opened his mouth to assuage his son's rage, but he was soon cut off by the reignition of Hanzo's curt words.

"You wish to speak to me, not as one of power but as your child! As an ignorant boy without influence! Your trust in those who came far before blind you, and you never question their uneducated views. Open your eyes, Grandfather's spirit weeps as you tear down this planet from within.

What placation Hanzo's father had had since died away upon his son's retort. "Hanzo, that is enough! Do you dare speak of blindness to me? Your arrogance and youth blind you! The fate of Hanamura rests on my shoulders, not yours! Not yet." The father now was visibly flustered, beads of sweat formulating on his forehead and his once well-kept hair now disheveled.

Hanzo rose from the stone bench in a fury and stood over to the man across him, now more enraged than ever as he towered almost two heads above his father. The father's calm look had returned, as an old dog who had lashed out before returning to rest. Enraged at his father's placidity and silent smugness that lingered around him, he raised his hand as if to hit the man and his father closed his eyes and turned his cheek to face his son's palm.

The older man let out a soft chuckle. "Physical assault will not shift my resolve, my son. Too quick towards brutality, lashing out in acts of violence to have your way, as did so many did prior. Ironic, as progressive as you think you are, also appear to cling to the old tactics of those before us. Always violence, never diplomacy."

"If you came to vilify me, then you can leave! My decisions, my actions, and my views, they all put my people first! Hanamura's wellbeing will forever be my top priority, and if you truly respected my council, you would heed my advice when I say that opening our borders for trade is the key to helping our planet thrive. We are dying father, I feel it. Our neighbors, even the small planets of Rialto and Eichenwalde, are growing at exceptional rates, their once small people now industrializing and flourishing because they have opened themselves up to neighbors. The pride of the Shimada family leaves us in darkness, and soon we will fall behind if we cannot admit that we need outside aid." Hanzo, seemingly exhausted from his monologue sat back down on the stone bench. He let out a deep sigh, looking down at the grass beneath his feet as the growing silence between the two men grew increasingly tense.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the father broke the silence. "I understand your concern Hanzo...It makes me very proud that the concern you hold for our people is as great as mine. But...time passes, and Hanamura will survive. We are a hardy people and have endured much, but we shall always remain, especially if we keep our business to ourselves and leave others out of it. It is how we have lived for centuries." He bent down with his hand to raise his son's face to look him in the eye.

Encompassed by anger at his father's inflexibility, he smacked the man's hand away. "Do not touch me Sojiro! We have survived, but you have no desire to see our people prosper! You are content only to live, not to create a better world for you or your people. The hypocrisy! You blame me for looking to others for advice rather than my own, why? Because there can be none found here! Even in my father, I cannot confide!"

Sojiro stopped for a moment, and he swallowed hard before coming up with a response. "This is no fault of mine Hanzo. You spurn reconciliation as if it were poison! I would merrily accept my son with open arms if there were true contriteness and remorse in his heart. That lofty dream has only become fantasy, as you have demonstrated that you harbor no plans of an accord!

A sly, devilish grin crept up on Hanzo's face, although he couldn't hide the blatant repulsion that pocked onto his face. "You disgust me. You say you are proud of me for taking concern for our people, but you have no concern for them! When I bring logic and reason to the table, you hide behind a wall of excuses and flimsy reasoning." Hanzo shoved his index finger hard into his father's chest. "How sad that after seemingly endless ages of prosperity dies with you. The Emporers of Hanamura are surely looking away from your rule. Your blessings are few.

Sojiro's face twisted into a mix of anger and remorse following the verbal assault. Hanzo turned on his heel and began to leave the garden, and desperate to keep his son in the conversation, Sojiro called for him. "Hanzo wait!" Hanzo turned slowly, his sharp, disgusted face boring into Sojiro.

"What?!" The man barked at his father.

Sojiro crumbled underneath his son's gaze and shut his mouth. "Nothing. There is no more rationale for this argument. I see neither of us will change our stances." 

Hanzo nodded, pleased with himself. Though neither won the quarrel, Hanzo had left his father feeling defeated with much to contemplate.


	2. Guise of the Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their hateful discussion in the garden, the tension between Sojiro and Hanzo reaches an almost tangibleness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys! So I'm not usually able to write over the weekends because I'm working, but I often can write a chapter every week, maybe even two? If this somehow gets a lot of recognition, I'll undoubtedly begin to write in M A X I M U M O V E R D R I V E.
> 
> Since we're still on Hanamura and thus traditional Japan, when I come across either aspects of architecture or items used in Japan, I'm going to try and use their actual Japanese name!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think and tell me what you want more/less of or suggestions!

Hanzo slammed the fusuma with so much anger and frustration; he was afraid it would tear apart the shoji from the recoil but was pleasantly relieved when it survived his furious assault upon architecture. The tatami soon muffled his thundering footsteps before he veered right and retreated to his chambers. There, two maids who were busy with Hanzo's clothing quickly and quietly escorted themselves out with a rushed bow before being the poor prey for the Prince's boiling rage. As soon as the maids had exited the room, Hanzo slung his arm his such fury again that the door did tear this time, evoking even more rage, this time in the form of a roar of anger. Hanzo was not sure what he indeed was angry at, the destruction of the door or the fact that he had known better than to be so hostile.

Not far down the hall, the sliding door to the garden creaked open, and Sojiro's soft footsteps plodded in. Shimada castle carried sound well, servants and Shimadas alike could tell who was coming just by the sound of the nuanced creaks and minute cracks in the floorboards. The opening of the door to the garden was soon accompanied by his mother's voice, which traditionally, was as soft if not softer than Sojiro's.

As the Prince lay on the tatami he began to whirl up scenarios of what was going not far from him based solely on the inaudible speech exchanged between Sojiro and his mother. He sighed, eyes closing as if he were shutting down. His mother, Matsui. He hated disappointing his mother. This statement was wholely hypocritical if one were to peek inside Shimada castle. He and Sojiro would get in fights and confrontations often, once common and trivial, over small things that seemed so minuscule; a young Hanzo and his father did not blend well. Often Matsui would try and defuse the argument before it even had an opportunity to establish, but her futile attempts to end Sojiro's and Hanzo's bickering would eventually lead to the feeble woman trying to dominate the two men's voices with her own, frail cry. As years drew on the residents of Hanamura, and even some within the family believed the broken relationship between the father and son had mended over time by maturation and simple adult understanding. 

Fools they were. The tenuousness of the relationship between father and son grew increasingly frayed. Though both of them oldened, neither matured and neither had the wisdom, nor the humility to admit to the flaws that peppered Hanzo's adolescence. Rather than discuss the differences between them, the men harbored grudges and festering frustrations until neither could stand to be in each other's presence; then they would have a shouting match, reminiscent of the ones before, but far more violent. Servants knew at once to evade the conflict, wherever it aroused and wherever it traveled. Matsui and Genji, the youngest boy of the Shimada family, would even find each other to hide as far as they could from the clash. It broke Matsui's heart to see her son and husband in such a furious altercation, Genji and her would wince at particularly foul language or the crashing of some unseen vase or chair. 

At first, when the yellings began again, a small Genji, fearful for both his brother and father, would cry and run towards them; tears would be streaming down his pale little face. Matsui, wary to not let all three of her boys be tangled in a quarrel would scoop up the little boy and sprint away. Her tears accompanied her young son's, clutching him close to her chest as she slid close the fusuma of a vacant room. She would rock on the floor, her small child squirming to find what the commotion about before she would offer up a constant whisper. 

"No Genji, Papa and Brother are busy..." The mother's tender words would tantalize the soft air around them, sating the toddler for but a moment before another shout would cause him to cry out and attempt another escape from his mother's embrace. Matsui would wait and hold her son until the shoutings receded, or until the yelling shifted closer to them and she was forced to react on the fly whether to flee from the conflict or stay put. Traditionally, the pair could wait out the battle like some poor refugees in their own home, cowering in a shelter during some sick bombardment that was encircling the two and only them.

Hanzo's wandering memories and thoughts of his tumultuous past were punctuated by his mother's sobbing. Typical, if he was honest with himself, after a fight an outcry from his mother soon followed, as it had been since day one. Hanzo decided it was best to evade his parent's gaze for a while, so he would most definitely skip dinner, leave the house after dark and let the situation mend itself with time. He sat on the floor staring over at the small plant he had on a table, laughing at how insignificant he felt. If one were to peer into the room, they would see a young man face downtrodden and sunken into his knees. The people of Hanamura would see different. They would see their future leader, the boy who would and will be king, like a crumpled mess on the floor, angry and resentful.

He waited there, intently listening to the exchange of his parents. The once warming glow of the sun had since died and following it was the familiar sound of Arata, the head cook, ringing the dinner bell. Hanzo watched as the silhouette of his younger brother dashed sped past the pane of the wall. Mellow voices once again permeated through the wall wafted in along the decadent aromas of Shioyaki. Hanzo clutched his stomach with discontent and grumbled. Closing his eyes, he looped his arm back around his head and undid the long, elegant bow that kept his long, black hair in order, his locks gracefully falling to his shoulders. Curbing the urges of joining his family and denying the pangs of hunger, Hanzo lied in wait, carefully listening for the soft clacking of dishes that signified dinner was over with and that his family would soon retire to their beds. 

Genji's shadow darted past the wall as he had before prior to dinner, and the wavering glow that illuminated his brother's room was snuffed out after that. Hanzo kept prudence at his side for a tad longer, eager to not even entertain the idea of catching a glimpse of his parents. He slowed his breathing to a standstill, remaining hushed, but brisk. Absolute silence. Testing his luck, Hanzo slid the shoji with considerable discretion and dared to poke his head into the opening. Swaying his gaze from left to right, Hanzo saw no sign of Matsui nor Sojiro, as the hall was darkening and he could not see any light coming from the center of the castle. He nodded silently to himself and crept to the table which held both his overcoat and coin purse, slung the coat over his shoulder, and with cautiousness coiling his every move, Hanzo ventured out into the dark hallway.

His cautiousness would prove futile, however, as soon as the man stepped out from the safety of his living quarters both his mother and father lied in wait for their eldest to reveal himself in the shrouds of darkness. Only the outline of them was visible, offset by the pale gleam of the shimmering white moon. Hanzo would not have noticed them if Sojiro's reserved voice had shattered the silence.

"Good evening Hanzo. Care to join us for dinner?" Sojiro said placidly.

Hanzo stared at the genkan not far from sight. He sighed silently and turned on his heel to stare at his father who was still shrouded by the cover of night. His eyes continued to adjust to the dark room and the outline of his parents became increasingly apparent. Although Sojiro was not visible entirely, let alone the minute details on his aging face, Hanzo detected the smugness on his father's face. He executed the plan perfectly, and the ego of his father laced his voice with subtle intricacy that it was undetectable unless one had heard it many times. 

"Come, sit down, eat. You must be hungry." Matsui tapped the plate of Shioyaki on the table, stone cold. 

"I will sit when I am not patronized in my own home," Hanzo said blatantly. "When you do not treat me like an insect in need of trapping."

"No, no Hanzo that is not what we want! Just come sit and talk to your father and I, please, humor us!" Although she raised her voice slightly, Matsui still had an alarming air of placidity about her. Their faces were visible now and were shockingly distraught, and guilt began to seep into Hanzo's consciousness. He had disappointed them many times in the past, but this time was somehow different. They were not as much upset as disheartened and disappointed. Staring at the genkan for one last time, he breathed heavily once more and took his seat across from his parents.

"Thank you, Hanzo. This means much to your mother and I." Sojiro contently nodded as he watched his son sit down. "There is not much to discuss and preferably no room for conflict, so if you intend for the spirits of wrath to not be provoked, yes?" 

"I harbor no desire for conflict unless someone else has brought it. Proceed." Hanzo said compliantly. His parents turned at one another with something of foolish bewilderment and then realigned their stare with their son. Hanzo chortled silently and stifled a grin which was shrouded by blackness in the living room. His parents were so desperate, vying, grasping, for an inkling of assent, that they would jump for even the fakest promise of compliance. He had trapped them, ironically.

Sojiro had opened his mouth to speak, but Hanzo cut him off with a swift rise of the hand and a placating smile. "I would like to begin the conversation with an apology. I pushed my limits and let myself get out of hand. We've suffered too many arguments over issues that we can discuss civilly." Hanzo could not believe his ears. Would his parents be so eager for reconciliation that they would buy the blatant lie?

His mother's eyes began to water, and Sojiro looked as if he were to crumble. So easily broken by a few choice words, he laughed a little on the inside. All this time he had hurt and cut deeper with years of spiteful words, but in one short sentence, the wounds he had left from previous fights seemed to be healed immediately. He felt guilty of course, giving his parents this false compromise, but he assumed it for the best, for both his good and theirs. 

"I believe" Hanzo lied, "reinstation of beliefs will be a good middle ground. Let us see where we stand." Sojiro looked positively flustered, grasping for an idea where this change of heart could have come.

"Yes, yes of course..." His father muttered. Hanzo humored the man, listening intently as he rambled on about cutting off foreign influence, establishing global trade between various sectors of Hanamura, and reinstation of a worldwide religion.

By the time Sojiro had finished explaining himself, Hanzo had conjured up what he could say to please his father. "I see now, with a proper explanation why you have adopted this idea. My-my arrogance as you have said blinded me. I was unwilling to look beyond what I saw fit, and I am ashamed for being so close-minded. Truly I was a fool to reject the philosophies you have; it is apparent you have crafted and cultivated them since you were young." Hanzo was worried he had overdone it with the flattery this time. He had been pushing his limits since the beginning of the conversation and now was wincing as it was all rolled off his tongue. 

"Hanzo, please do not be so hard on yourself. You are young and inexperienced, and I am old and wisened." Hanzo bit his tongue, whether to keep himself from laughing or retorting. "Hanamura will thrive cutting ourselves off from foreigners. Help, bah! We will flourish among our own." 

They sat in silence then, Matsui had since fallen asleep amongst her husband's talk of politics and policies. At times Hanzo felt that he wanted to fall asleep too, dozing off every so often until he tried to regain consciousness as subtly as possible. Sojiro sighed.

"It is late. We should leave this here, no?" Hanzo nodded. He rose with Sojiro, who cradled Matsui in his hands tenderly. With yet another nod of solidarity, the two men parted ways. 

With an affirming click of the bedroom door, Hanzo was assured that he was alone. He walked out to the balcony near the living room which overlooked Sakura Bay, a sprawling dark void illuminated by a large moon which shone like a weak sun. The left of him, although partially obscured by bonsai lay the city with the same name. Sakura City glistened beneath the mountain Shimada Castle stood so elegantly upon, as if the palace were the crowning jewel of the port below. Hanzo gazed down at the twinkling orange lights and felt a strong surge of pity. The madness of their king would soon bring hardship and failure upon them. He shook his head at the thought his father's philosophies. 

He stood there for a while, body hunched over the railing, watching the fresh wind blow bonsai leaves into the wind. He would not allow Hanamura to fall into deprivation when he could have some influence. He would not let the ignorance of one be the downfall of many, even if that one was his father.


	3. The Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With tensions defused, Hanzo revels somewhat in the renewed relationship with his parents. Amongst the peace, more complications arise.

Shimada Castle slowly returned to normality after the midnight reconciliation. Regularity was a loose term, as for the Shimadas, commonplace was harsh language and vicious attacks against one another. Much to the relief of residents, the traditional aggression had vanished as if it had never existed. Now in favor of his parents, the young monarch found much of his life being upturned. Rather than being treated as a boy who did not influence the fate of Hanamura, he was being treated as the rightful heir to the throne. 

His days usually started at his leisure, rising in mid-morning and taking his time with what limited royal duties he was assigned, and then taking the rest of his day for recreational activities. Hanzo enjoyed life this way, the free time and being able to enjoy living at such a slow pace was preferred. This was not the case following the talk between Hanzo and his father. The servants now awoke Hanzo at dawn, often before light could filter into the home and be required to do far more in concerns of errands for the nobility and his father. Downtime was now a rare commodity, and leaving Shimada Castle or one of the homes of the nobility was rare most days. While Hanzo couldn't say that he despised the jobs they gave him, for the first time in his life the prince felt as if his position was having some sense of influence on the state of his homeworld; he could live without them too. The nobility was almost unbearable. Many of them were the wealthy upper class who had inherited the majority of their wealth from their deceased relatives. While this somewhat made him similar to the gentry, Hanzo had no desire to affiliate himself with them. Usually, Hanzo could ignore their inane chatter, now and then he would hear something that chaffed him, most of the time it was concerning the lower class and the impoverished of Sakura City. 

Still, the Prince pushed on, enduring frivolous aristocrats and grueling work, still clinging onto the belief and hope that he was having somewhat of sway and influence, he received his answer from Sojiro one night during dinner.

"Hanzo, the aristocracy and I would like to formally invite you to our next foreign policy conference next week, will you be able to make it?" Sojiro eyeballed his son, trying to keep attention on both his meal and his son at the same time.

Hanzo could not believe his ears, finally some recognition. Finally, his foot was in the door.

Sputtering out, Hanzo tried to form words. "Y-yes of course! I'd love to!" 

Sojiro smiled who was soon mirrored by Matsui and a pat on the back was also elicited from Genji who sat to his right. 

The night before the conference Hanzo lied awake, buzzing with anticipation. What would be said? Would they change any policies? Vote on anything? Could he somehow influence the votes? Electrified, he got very little sleep but woke up at dawn feeling energized and ready to attend the conference. What awaited Hanzo though, was a bitter disappointment.

Upon entering the court in which the conference was held, Hanzo felt a strange sense of futility. The court was layered, with him, Matsui, and Sojiro sitting in the middle of the room at the lowest point. The aristocratic nobles surrounded them like ravenous predators and hung above them like vultures, clad in expensive clothing all as if they were vultures, ready to pick apart the royals. The family took their seats Matsui to the right of Sojiro and Hanzo on his left. As if in a hunter's trap, Hanzo felt like a scared animal only seconds before his demise. His father bashed the gavel, and the conference was now in session.

Whatever ideas of grandeur Hanzo had conjured in his mind were soon dissipated. The nature of the conference was more reminiscent of a business meeting where the employees saw who could suck up to the boss the most. There were no talks of reform or progression, what tantalized the air was the nobility offering up their highest regards for his father's plans of isolation. Hanzo could see the greed in their eyes and saw they harbored no love for his father as they only saw him as a piece to better themselves. Many times Hanzo bit his tongue at lashing out, at who he wasn't sure. The nobility joyously fed Sojiro lies and hollow praise, and the king basked in the recognition as if he were a sponge that might dry up if it did not receive adequate approval. He wanted to shake his father and tell him that the nobles were going to bring Hanamura down farther into poverty, but he comprised himself. If he were to have any respect from the aristocracy, he must appear as a well-to-do monarch to be, not some wanton boy unfit to lead a people. As much as Hanzo hated to admit it, the nobility held a power that he couldn't deny.

Whereas Hanzo attended to get his foot in the door of politics, Matsui on the other hand simply attended because her husband's presence was required. As if she were some child that needed entertaining, Matsui often carted along her brushes and washi and would draw or paint during the assemblies, shutting all but her own body away from the talk of politics. Hanzo wished he could join his mother in her artistic pursuits rather than to be subjugated conferences, but he knew that if he were to have any change upon Hanamura before Sojiro's death, appearing as an excellent upcoming monarch was necessary. He felt guilty waiting for something so grim as his father's death, and not that he wanted Sojiro dead because he hated him, Hanzo needed his father removed before he inflicted any permanent damage upon his home. Some may have seen this grisly desire as wretched ambition, as so many wanting the power his father held, but Hanzo shut out these misconceptions simply by knowing with him at the helm, Hanamura would be much better than during Sojiro's reign. 

Rather than use artistry to kill time, Hanzo's mind wandered and daydreamed of activities he usually did on days like this one; his mind strolled over to his brother Genji. Before the invitations extended to him, he and Genji would take the day and escape the palace. Unlike many nobles and other aristocrats, Hanzo "fraternized" with the lower class, finding wandering the streets of Sakura City, conversating with the citizens, and spending the day with his brother to be far more entertaining than staying cooped up in the house. 

Genji was well-liked among the servants of the castle and the citizens of Hanamura. Easy-going and free-spirited, Hanzo admired his brother's personality and attitude which sparked the rumor that he was adopted, considering he was so juxtaposed to the rest of his sullen family. Contrary to his older brother, Genji took no interest in politics, policies or anything of the like. Seeing as he was the second born and therefore not in line for the throne, he abandoned or evaded all talk that would snare him in a conversation concerning royalty. 

Rather than acquaint himself with royal affairs, Genji often took to things that were both in and out of character for a Shimada. He took to athletic pursuits well, mainly running, swimming and much to the disappointment of Hanzo, who loved the weapon, shunned the bow and arrow in favor for the katana. The brothers shared a tight bond, even though it had noticeably weakened as Hanzo took upon more royal duties. 

As the prince pondered his inability to stop the apparent strain on his relationship with Genji, his ears almost perked up like a dog upon hearing something that piqued his interest.

"Your grace, we have a formal invitation from Numbani to attend the Intergalactic Trade Assembly. Shall I decline?" A portly noble looked down upon Sojiro with beady eyes.

Hanzo swallowed hard and stared at his right, a portion of him holding out and hoping his father was not fully committed to his ideals.

Sojiro cleared his throat and spoke in a clear, deep voice. "Of course. Decline all current and future invitations. Thank them, but politely decline." 

The large noble grinned maliciously and bowed, and Hanzo sighed silently and stared into his lap. He did not take in much of the speaking afterward; his mind raced furiously about the invitation. The Hanamurans always attended the Trade Assembly, even isolationist systems such as Dorado and Busan participated to see how they could adapt and change global trade amongst themselves.

The thoughts continued to swirl in Hanzo's head before the announcement by his father that the session was over and the sound of moving bodies shuffling out of the building signaled for everyone to vacate the court. 

Shimada Castle was cold and dreary, as a dark, sullen rain had descended upon the city. Genji was home, signaled by the wavering light filtering through the walls of his room. Skipping the familiar turn into his chambers which he did for the past few weeks, Hanzo continued forward and slid the door open that led into Genji's room.

"Heya," Genji said, looking up from the drawing of what appeared to be a blade. 

Hanzo could not help but feel warmed by how open and normal his brother was in his response. Maybe the feeling of distance wasn't mutual, and it was just his own feelings.

"All that politics wearing you out yet?" Genji smiled warmly and scratched his nose.

"Uh, yes, somewhat. It is growing tiring I cannot lie." 

His brother snickered then sighed. "Good luck to you, cause what you've got now; Dad probably wouldn't bat an eye at. You're a better man than I am, if I were next in line, I'd probably hand it off to another family member." 

Hanzo felt a bit chaffed by this statement but passed it off as teenage immaturity and thought nothing more of it.  
"I do miss our days together, as sappy as that sounds," He admitted as he took a seat by his younger sibling. 

Genji moved his drawing over and set it on his nightstand to move closer to his brother. "Nah, it's not sappy. I miss 'em too. You should weasel out sometime, and we can go exploring again." He looked down at the floorboards. "I...miss that even though it hasn't been that long." 

Hanzo looked over at his brother. Genji's head was low, but Hanzo felt as if he was seeing his brother for the first time. The light from his lamp become trapped in his watery eyes, like pools of sunlight waiting to drip off into oblivion. Hanzo had never seen Genji cry in all of his life besides when he was a toddler. 

The older brother opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut back by his own thoughts. His heart broke for his sibling. Genji had been born into a broken family, was living in a broken family, and for the time being, will always live in a broken family. Hanzo could not take it. What false healing he had tried to bring by riding on the lie he handed his father in the darkened room weeks before hurt far more than those he anticipated. By increasing his relationship with his parents, his brother slipped away. He couldn't seem to keep both. Guilt ran awash over Hanzo, so much to the point he felt as if he were going to melt. How could he have been so stupid? Their relationship, that brotherly bond, was Genji's anchor. Sojiro and Matsui were never negligent, they provided, cared, and raised Genji well, but how were they supposed to build a relationship with their youngest when their oldest, him, was so troublesome? Unsure of what to do, Hanzo reached over and slung his arm around his brother. 

The tears in Genji's eyes began to fall, and he began to tremble as Hanzo rubbed his arm along his brother's back and started to console him. Unsure of what to say, he continued with the physical contact to calm his brother down. 

"I know it's not your fault...You're the heir to the throne, and this was bound to happen," Genji blubbered. "I just wish I wasn't so dependent on you." 

Hanzo continued to hush his brother, trying desperately to provide him some kind of solace. Hanzo faced a predicament. Lose how far he's come with his father or sacrifice his relationship with his brother to gain more political power? "I-I'm sorry Genji. I know our relationship has been strained, I did not expect it to be so drastic, and for that, you have my deepest apologies." 

The younger brother nodded as he trembled again. "I wasn't open with it because I didn't want to feel like an obligation, I didn't feel like you HAD to spend time with me." 

Hanzo shook his head and smiled reassuringly at his brother. "No, I wouldn't have felt that way, I enjoy our time together."

Genji sniffled and nodded, looking pitiful, but reassured. 

They stayed in that position for a while, the two brothers holding each other in solidarity. Eventually, they lapsed, and they went back to sitting in their previous place. They nodded at each other, and as if they were kids once again, knew what the other was thinking, and Hanzo left for his room. Except Genji didn't understand what Hanzo was thinking. Hanzo sat on the tatami, and his brain sat in turmoil, now split even more than before, having three huge issues presented at him. His relationship with Genji, Sojiro, and now, the Intergalactic Trade Assembly in just a few days.


	4. An Ominous Portent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Intergalactic Trade Assembly looming, Hanzo must make his last-minute decision whether or not to attend.

Hanzo awoke on his own that morning much to his shock. He sat up as if nothing had changed and the revelation with his parents had been something of a lofty delusion. Even so, there was an out of the ordinary ghostly silence that hung over the house like a funeral pall. The home was eerily barren, and only the sound of Hanzo's bare feet lightly tapping the floor seemed to be audible. 

"Genji? Mother? Father?" Hanzo's voice echoed through the house; reverberating against the thin walls of the home. The more Hanzo looked around he wasn't sure if it was morning at all. Sullen darkness shrouded the cliffs of Shimada Castle, and Hanzo spun on his heel towards the balcony. As his hand reached out to slide the door away, it snapped shut the instant Hanzo tried to pry it open.

"What the hell?" Hanzo cocked his head and attempted to slide it open once more. Futilely, he tired twice more, both of them failing like the prior attempts. Hanzo rolled his shoulders and craned his neck. Balancing himself, Hanzo raised his left leg and thrust it with great force, bursting a wide hole in the brittle door frame. Hanzo stared at the gape, inexplicably entranced by the tattered paper and the shattered wooden frame. He thought how, something so fragile, so brittle, had not broken until now. Why it was so seemingly strong despite that a single, swift kick would cause it to collapse.

The hole was dark and glimmered with a dark shade of crimson. Hanzo tried to resist the urge to stare into the hole's seemingly endless depths but the more the man tried to pull away, the more it seemed to tussle him into its sinister pull. Slowly Hanzo kneeled and crawled towards the opening. He stuck his hand through the door's hole and slowly, it began to drag his arm upward until its draw was so powerful it started to pull up the man. Hanzo, now horrified, frantically tried to take hold of anything substantial or stationary. He thrust his left hand out, attempting to latch onto a stand for a vase. As soon as he grasped it, the wooden stand began to wobble, and the vessel plummeted to the floor with a deafening crash, followed suit by the toppling of the wooden pedestal and Hanzo's grasp slipped away. Now with nothing to keep him from hurtling through the door, Hanzo's head was pulled through the hole, torn paper, and splintered wood scraping his cheeks and causing thin cuts along his face. 

Then, with great terror, the source of the ceaseless pull revealed itself. Positioned above the once placid Sakura Bay was an immense black hole, which cast a dark, crimson glow over the bay and the city. To the left of Hanzo, Sakura City was a charred ruin. Great, orange flames engulfed the outlying villages and the great skyscrapers, all of it, left to smolder and burn. The water from the bay was pulled into the maw of the black hole in a revolving spire of water and the trees from the surrounding cliffs were being pulled in like pollen in a light breeze. Hanzo was now out of the door's opening and in a desperate attempt from suffering the same fate as his surroundings, he caught his hand on the balcony railing, his left arm keeping his entire body from being drawn into oblivion. With great panic, he watched below as the trees implanted in the cliffs Shimada Castle sat upon were ripped up from their roots and began to hurtle towards the vortex. Without time to think, parts of Shimada Castle were being torn apart, the upper spire was snapped in two and tumbled down the cliffs before also being trapped in the draw. 

Hanzo, barely being able to process any coherent thought latched onto one thing, his family. Unsure if they knew what was happening, Hanzo futilely tried to swing his body, now suspended in the air, back to the balcony to see if his family was even aware of the destruction that was soon to befall the planet. As he struggled to claw his way back to solid ground, more parts of the castle broke away like tumbling glaciers slipping into the sea. He dared look back, seeing Sakura Bay almost draining entirely, and Sakura City tearing apart like twigs. His hand grew increasingly weak, arms straining and his muscles on fire as he fought against the pull. He looked back towards the balcony, only to see a rogue chair charging towards him, and without time to react was smacked in the face and loosening his grip just the slightest to send him careening into the spiral.

Now at the mercy of the vortex, Hanzo tumbled and rolled as if he were a ragdoll. Debris flying past, Hanzo futilely grasped for anything substantial. Reaching out to grab a chunk of a cliff, Hanzo's hand slipped across the jagged stones, leaving him suspended in the air once more with only a deep gash across his palm to show for it. The whirling maw of the black hole was growing larger and much nearer now. Magnificently terrifying, The center of the spiral, a gaping dark mass nestled in a cascading whirlpool of dark red energy, had bright red tendrils slinking out from it. 

Staring helplessly as debris and wreckage sunk into the swirling black core, Hanzo, swallowed by panic, dared to gaze upward but seeing something stationary amid the chaos. Now nearly upon the center, the Prince braced himself for imminent destruction before a soft hand pressed against his forehead. Opening his eyes, he stared into dark brown eyes that matched his own. Sojiro, calm as he always was stood amidst the desolation with his hand pressed against his son's head, smiling. 

Too bewildered to speak, Hanzo opened his mouth, silent questions and unformed words flying out. Sojiro said nothing in return. Blinking softly and then sighing audibly, Sojiro pushed his arm forward, thrusting his hand against Hanzo slowly, and the Prince's body went rigid. Unable to move anything besides his eyes, Hanzo's body began to tumble back away from the spiral and his father. Revolving in the opposite direction Hanzo felt the black maw of the hole started to weaken. Spinning furiously, Hanzo could not tell where he was headed; everything destroyed made discernment of anything nearly impossible. In a sudden impact, Hanzo hit what little water was left in Sakura Bay, feeling as if his body had entirely shattered. 

His hands and body free now submerged in the bay, Hanzo began to swim up but was inexplicably crushed by some unknown force deeper into the body of water. Helplessly straining against the supernatural power, his body was pushed deeper and deeper into the lake, lungs straining for air until they didn't. The water ceased to flow against his skin, and the mysterious force had dissipated. Hanzo was suspended in inky blackness, looking up through the water of the bay, now he could barely make out Sojiro juxtaposed against the instrument of Hanamura's destruction. He floated there, unable to do anything as if he were a spectator to Armageddon, safely nestled in some strange bunker. 

As if someone flipped a switch, Hanzo stopped floating and dropped. Freefalling without any sign of the end, Hanzo began to panic, and with a scream, he shot up, staring at the moonlight filtering into his bedroom. Hanzo slowly started to pace his breath and kneeled on his tatami. Droplets of sweat beaded his forehead, and his silky black hair was damp. Stumbling into the bathroom, he reached for a towel and dabbed his face and hair with it, barely able to make out his pallid reflection in the mirror. Turning the faucet and letting water flow out in a steady stream, he cupped his hands before tossing the water on his face. 

Returning back to his bed, Hanzo sat on the floor, knees tucked in as he rested his head against the wall. The Trade Assembly was in five days. He wasn't sure what good attending would even do. Would they accept him even as a viable representative? He craned his neck and sighed audibly in the pristine silence. The Assembly called him like nothing else. Its draw was intoxicating. Taking action was exciting, unlike consorting with sycophantic nobles. Genji's smiling face came to mind, however. Leaving him was just as much a factor for staying as the Assembly was for going. 

The dream haunted Hanzo through the night. Sojiro's calm countenance contrasted on the dark swirling chaos punctured any coherent thought Hanzo conjured up. As the haunt of his father's face loomed in his mind, Hanzo decided to evaluate what it would take to attend the Assembly. Surely Sojiro would give him no consent, his adamance to declining the invitation cemented that idea. Maybe he could convince Matsui to let him go. Despite his father taking care of most of the business, Matsui was still wife to the Emporer and could grant him a pardon or permission against regulation. No, that would never work. Sojiro intimidated Matsui too much for her to allow Hanzo to rebel so much.

The only viable option was to leave unannounced and without permission. Truly the last route Hanzo wanted to take, but no other choice presented itself. The only choice was when. With only five days to make the escape, Hanzo reviewed the five days he had left and where and when he could disappear. Then it hit him. The Sakura Festival. Hanamura hosted an annual spring festival to celebrate the blossoming of the cherry blossoms and the arrival of spring. Hanzo usually adored this time but was so busy with outside work he entirely forgot it was coming, Now it made sense where Matsui had been. Matsui completely took it upon herself to plan the festival and had most likely been down in the city to prepare. 

Hanzo scraped his fingernail across the carpet, troubling himself over the idea. It was...the best chance he had. He had to take the opportunity, fearing it would be the only one he had. Genji ran across his mind once more; however, his poor brother who relied on him so much. The Sakura Festival was a time they oft spent together. He could not leave Genji in the dark, he could not leave his brother alone with no explanation. But that, would wait until the morning.


End file.
